


Precious Things

by Cairnsy



Category: Tokaido Hisame – Kagerou
Genre: Gen, hurt/comfort bingo, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-13
Updated: 2010-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cairnsy/pseuds/Cairnsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one else is allowed to play with Yakumo's toys, and those who break them suffer a special fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious Things

  
The man who stole away one of Yakumo's precious things was out for blood, and so it was blood that Yakumo gifted him with when he arrived at the laughably transparent hideout. Yakumo didn't bother with his sword; there was no point when the magic that sparked at the end of his fingertips provided a more potent – and certainly a far more painful –end to those who had thought this was a wise idea.

This was the first time anyone had dared to take something of Yakumo's, and he planned on making certain that it would also be the last.

With a wave of his hand and a quietly uttered curse, the three guards that barreled down the corridor towards him simply exploded, their rich, dirty blood splaying across the carpet and dripping in strips down the elaborate wall hangings.

Yakumo smiled, taking a moment to admire the artistry of the attack. Oh, yes. People would not forget what happened when they showed such impertinence in the face of so much power.

He let the next henchman stupid enough to charge him live slightly longer, wrapping his long fingers around the already spluttering man's neck and lazily tightening his grip.

"Which way?" He asked politely, patiently waiting for his answer. Struggling for breath, the man gestured wildly down another corner, this one off to left.

With a flick of his wrist, Yakumo snapped his neck in half. It was a better death than the man deserved, but Yakumo had more pressing things to attend to. The alarm had long since been raised, and the initial rush of blood (followed by the clinical spilling of it), had given way to an uneasy quietness as the remaining henchmen scurried back into the woodwork and tried to regroup.

It hardly mattered. They would come to him, eventually. They always did.

His smile darkened into a smirk. Humans really were pathetic creatures when left to their own devices. It was why they needed a strong hand to guide them.

Moving unimpeded through the corridors, Yakumo slowed to a stop in front of a large iron door, finding the lack of subtlety almost offensive. It was true that the heavy door would keep most people out, but the manner in which it clashed aesthetically with the detailed woodwork was unforgivable.

Really, there was no accounting for some people's taste.

Yakumo pressed the palm of his hand flat against the door, but the spell that would have caused it to disintegrate into nothing but dust stalled half way to his lips.

Something wasn't right. With a quiet frown, Yakumo dropped his hand to the steel doorknob and turned it. The door swung inwards easily and on its own accord, the heavy bolts already uncocked.

The stench of blood from the room was overpowering even from the corridor, but Yakumo barely gave it a moment's pause. Instead, his gaze fell on the lithe form that was leaning against the far wall of the cell.

"You came," Shion said calmly, running one blood-stained hand through his disheveled hair. Yakumo's usually immaculate subordinate was a parody of his normal self, his jacket buttoned up with crisp precision even though it hung hazardously from his shoulders in multiple pieces. The strips of dirty white material wrapped around his chest were all that remained of Shion's usually perfectly pressed dress shirt, although Yakumo noted darkly that those strips were serving a duel purpose.

"You could have escaped without my assistance." Yakumo said idly as stepped slowly into the cell, light spilling in from the corridor and driving away some of the lingering shadows.

"What would have been the point?" Shion asked, a childish curiosity sparking briefly in his green eyes. "Either you came for me, or you didn't."

Yakumo's eyes narrowed. Shion was never this direct, nor this placid. Even when Shion was at his most dependent he always maintained the bratty belief that he had some sway over whether Yakumo kept him at his side or not. Moving deeper into the windowless room he surveyed the damage calmly, choosing to ignore the other man for the moment. Four guards lay dead, flayed into barely connected pieces by a bold, dark magic that still rippled in the air.

One guard, Yakumo noted detachedly, was only half dressed. He coldly stepped over that particular body as Shion watched on, his head dipped prettily to the side.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Yakumo asked, nodding back to what remained of the guards. "It's certainly not something I taught you." Yakumo preferred to keep the darker spells to himself, and with good reason.

Shion shrugged demurely in what, Yakumo realized with no small amount of disgust, was an attempt to humbly avoid taking full responsibility for the grotesque scene. Yakumo didn't believe for one second that Shion was seeing the same things that Yakumo was. Wherever Shion was right now, he wasn't here in this dark cell sleeked with blood.

Yakumo finally stepped in front of Shion, his gaze clinically sweeping over his bloody, torn form before settling coolly on his unmarred face. Shion simply glanced up at Yakumo through long lashes; his docile, empty gaze a pale imitation of the catty, vain emotions that normally dominated Shion's features. Even the starkly familiar way in which Shion's right hand played with his hair struck Yakumo as strangely foreign. It was only when Yakumo looked closer that he noticed that, while Shion's thin fingers twirled in and around the blond strands, they were unable to get any permanent traction.

With a low, uncharacteristic growl, Yakumo snatched Shion's hand in one his own, the tightness of his grip smothering away the uncontrollable tremors that ran up through Shion's traitorous fingers.

"You came." Shion smiled sweetly at Yakumo, and then his green eyes were sliding closed.

Yakumo caught him as he fell.

"Of course I did," Yakumo murmured, his mouth pressed against Shion's hair in a sharp, splintered smile.

He was going to break them all into a thousand pieces.


End file.
